


Deux Mercenaires sous les Nuages Blancs

by Alto_128



Series: Une Histoire de Deux Mercenaires [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Novelization, On Hiatus, White Clouds, silver snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alto_128/pseuds/Alto_128
Summary: Byleth lived a rather peaceful life as a mercenary with his father. Then one thing lead to another, and now he's a professor at an elite military academy. At least he's made friends with some of the knights - especially the Dagdan mercenary.~~~A novelisation of White Clouds (Silver Snow route) with eventual Byleth and Shamir romance.On hiatus - see chapter 6.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Shamir Nevrand
Series: Une Histoire de Deux Mercenaires [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935532
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Old Revenge and a New Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> The title translates to 'Two Mercenaries under the White Clouds'. If you're wondering why it's in French, that's because for this fic, I will use that language as a stand in for Dagdan (as we never hear it spoken in the game) and also because it is a rather beautiful and elegant language. With that aside, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tailtean Plains, Imperial Year 91. The final battle in the War of the Heroes.

The birds should have been singing their sweet morning-songs hours ago. Yet the only sound that could be heard on that bleak morning was that of deafening silence and woeful anticipation. Lit by twilight’s eerie glow, the two armies moved into position and dared the other to make the first move. At the centre of both forces stood their commanders; a muscular, grizzled man who sought power and a slender, fair woman who sought revenge. They locked eyes from opposing ends of the fields, an unspoken challenge between them.

_It is time._

Both armies charged into battle without a moment’s hesitation. The alarum of battle shatters the silence as the harsh cry of steel on steel tears through the morning air and was harmonised by the guttural cries of the wounded. Mounted soldiers crash through infantry lines as if they were merely paper cut-outs of soldiers as pegasi and wyverns locked into an airborne dance of death overhead. Entire battalions were decimated by the spells of the mages, while archers launched volley after volley of arrows into the conflict.

Suddenly, a pillar of light ruptured the heavens and embedded itself into the ground, igniting the surrounding area and incinerating all those unfortunate enough to be near. Out of the darkness stepped the grizzled man and he drew the glowing blade from the ground. Extending the sword into a whip, he decimated all who surrounded him; the power of the Fell Star coursing through his veins. As the dawn peeked over the mountains that lipped the plains, ten other relics scattered around the battlefield resonated with power.

Elsewhere, an elite vanguard charged towards the female commander, the leader aiming for her head. She remained impassive as one of her knights leapt forward and intercepted the attack. Silently, she observed her surroundings and searched for the grizzled man in order to end his life. Around her, the knights eliminated the threat of the vanguard at the cost of their captain, who utters their commander’s name with his dying breath. 

‘L-Lady Seiros…’

Meanwhile, the enemy commander carves a path through the soldiers as if they were no more than shrubs to a machete in order to find her. Many a knight fell to his sword-cum-whip as he slowly made his way through the battlefield. Through a clearing in the forest of soldiers, he locked eyes with her and Seiros’s stone face broke with a look of unspeakable rage. She drew her sword and ran towards him, their blades clashing in a flurry of blows.

They locked swords and glared at each other with malice and bloodlust in their eyes. With a roar, he extended the sword into a whip and forced her to step back, narrowly avoiding getting impaled by the sharpened tip. Grunting, he swung the whip again to press the narrow advantage that he won, only for her to roll under the deadly swipe. For a third time, he swung the blade but to no avail – raising her sword, she trapped the chain around the blade and rendered it useless. Before the man could react, Seiros cast aside the swords and rushed in, punching him in the face before kicking him to the ground. She drew a dagger and pressed it to his throat.

‘Tell me Nemesis,’ she spat, voice full of venom. ‘Do you recall the Red Canyon? You’ll die for that. Die! Die!’ 

Each cry was accentuated with a plunge of the dagger into his chest and throat and blood gushed from the wounds. Each stab was accentuated by her building rage and desperation for revenge and buried the dagger deeper into his body with each strike.

‘You took… everything… that I loved!’

With a final shout, Seiros plunged the dagger deep into his chest and Nemesis breathed his last. As the sun rose completely behind her, her army cheers and celebrates their victory. She grasped for Nemesis’s blade and held it close to her, whispering so softly none can hear her:

‘He’s gone now, mother… You can finally rest in peace...’

~~~

Suddenly, space and time caved in on itself and flashbulb memories of a distant past flicker by before turning to black. Slowly, the darkness is lit by an ethereal green light revealing a young girl slumbering peacefully on a throne. With a yawn, she awoke and groggily cleared her eyes.

‘Oh my. What could have brought you here?’ she asks, ‘I wonder how you got in here… It is very rude to interrupt a moment of repose, you know. Very rude indeed. Now come – I wish to have a look at you.’

Tentatively, a man with a flowing jacket-turned-cape stepped out of the darkness and into the light. His appearance was fairly unremarkable – in fact, the only thing about him that stood out was his teal-coloured hair. The girl leant forward and observed him before bringing her hand to her chin.

‘Hmm… I have not seen the likes of you before. Who are you, anyway?’

Born into a mercenary troupe, he has fought and killed ever since he could remember. His efficacy and coldness in battle as well as his stoic demeanour and lack of emotions garnered him the nickname ‘Ashen Demon’ amongst his mercenary peers. Although his father kept them mostly in line, he hears them talk, sometimes, about his almost unearthly expressionless demeanour.

‘I am a demon,’ he replied. The girl on the throne was not amused.

‘Do not deceive. I can plainly see that you are not as you claim to be. You would do well to keep your wit in line.’

‘If I am not a demon, then I am a mortal.’

‘Very well. In that case, then you should have a name of sorts. Go on.’

‘My name is Byleth Eisner.’

‘Huh. I will never grow accustomed to the sound of human names. You must also have a day of birth. Under which moon and which day were you born to this world?’

As far as Byleth remembered, he celebrated his birthday on the twenty-sixth day of the Blue Sea Moon. Yet he was unaware of how old he actually was, as neither his father nor the mercenaries in their troop ever told him how many years he should be celebrating. He knew this uncertainty wasn't normal, but nevertheless he didn't question it and primarily viewed his birthday as just another day.

‘I was born on the twenty-sixth day of the Blue Sea Moon,' he said. This statement elicited a reaction of shock from the girl, whose eyes widened with surprise.

‘Well now, it seems wonders never cease! It seems we share our day of birth – how curious! It all feels so… familiar.’ She yawned and stretched out, reclining once again upon the throne. ‘I think it’s time for another nap… It is almost… time… to begin…’

With that, she fell asleep and left Byleth alone in the void, contemplating the fierce battle he just witnessed and the strange girl he just met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first few chapters may be a little boring as they're almost verbatim from the games. However, expect some original content later when we hit the Monastery and the teaching/exploring phases. I do intend to give Byleth a little more dialogue, and make the support conversations less one-sided as well.


	2. A Skirmish at Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Jeralt head off for their next contract, but a complication arises before they are able to.

‘Hey. It’s time to wake up. Were you having that dream again?’

With a yawn, Byleth sat up and rubbed his eyes. He glanced around room before his eyes settled on his father, Jeralt, drinking coffee by the fireplace. The room was relatively small, but rather homely. A table and a fireplace sat to one side, with a pot of coffee heating atop the hearth. On the other side of the room were two beds upon which they slept the night before. Clearing his throat, Byleth replied, ‘Yes. I was dreaming about a war, there were…’

‘Massive armies clashing on a vast field, right?’ supplied Jeralt. To that, Byleth simply nodded. ‘There hasn’t been a battle like that in over three centuries… At any rate, best to put that out of your head for now. The battlefield is no place for idle thoughts. Letting your mind wander in a fight is a sure way to get yourself killed.’

Byleth nodded again. Downing the last of his coffee, Jeralt stood and made his way to the door.

‘Let’s get moving. Our next job is in the Kingdom. I told you before, but it’s far from here so we need to leave at dawn,’ he called over his shoulder as he walked out. 

‘Of course,’ said Byleth. He yawned once more before getting out of the bed and walking over to the pot and pouring himself a cup. He took a sip of the bittersweet liquid before setting the cup down and changing into his black trousers and tunic. Then, he strapped the lightweight metal guard onto his sword arm and pulled his gloves on before drinking the remainder of his coffee and exiting the room. 

As he stepped out of the inn, Byleth saw his father as well as some of the mercenary troupe talking to three youths who looked rather exhausted. As he approached them, he is noticed by the girl with lavender eyes and white hair who stared intently at him, as though evaluating his skills. He looked to the other two youths: a tan man of average height with striking green eyes and brown hair and a tall, blond man with clear blue eyes.

‘…pursued by a group of bandits. I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support,’ continued the blond man.

‘Bandits?’ questioned Byleth. Remire Village, where their mercenary troupe were currently stationed, was very rarely attacked as it was a frequent base of operations for the troupe. Evidently, whoever the bandits were, they were either unaware of their troupe’s posting or did not care for the risks.

‘It’s true,’ said the girl, ‘They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.’

‘We’ve been separated from our companions, and we’re outnumbered,’ added the third youth. ‘They’re after our lives… not to mention our gold.’ He said the last part with a wink.

Jeralt thoughtfully stroked his beard as he gave a look at the three. ‘I’m surprised you’re all so calm, considering the situation. I… Wait. That uniform–’

He was cut off by the cry of a mercenary who bore bad news. ‘Sir! Bandits spotted just outside the village! Goddess damn it, there’s a lot of them…’ After delivering the news, he ran back to the village gates to hold off the bandits.

‘I guess they followed you all the way here,’ muttered Jeralt. He turned to Byleth. ‘We can’t just abandon this village now. Come on, let’s move. Hope you’re ready, kid.’

Byleth nodded and drew his sword before leading the three youths to the gates of the village.

~~~

The skirmish was unfolding quite well in the favour of the mercenary troupe. The bandits were caught by surprise, seemingly unaware that there would be mercenaries in the village and were barely holding their ground. The arrival of Byleth and the three youths turned the battle further in their favour, accentuated with the entrance of Jeralt upon horseback, who swiftly dispatched several of the bandits who got too close to the village. The three teenagers were rather proficient with their weapons of choice: the tall blond wielding a lance with the strength of a lion, the girl wielding an axe with the precision of an eagle and the tanned man shooting arrows with the grace of a deer.

Byleth was not unaccustomed to battle and he could plainly see that what the three had in technique, they lacked in experience. Opportunities where they could have easily delivered a fatal blow were missed in favour of textbook-perfect technique. Against a stronger, battle-hardened enemy, he quickly realised, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. Fortunately, they were only facing a bunch of bandits who quickly proved to be a pack of pushovers when it registered that they were facing an elite mercenary troupe. 

After the main bulk of the thieves were routed, the leader and his strongest fighters advanced into the fray. ‘Damn,’ he muttered, ‘Why are there mercenaries in the village? Guess we’ll have to deal with them too!’

In a move equal parts brave and stupid, they charged towards the main bulk of mercenaries, targeting the only mounted warrior. Unfortunately for them, this turned out to be Jeralt – the most skilled and seasoned fighter of the troupe. 

‘What the – aren’t you Jeralt the Blade Breaker?’ questioned the leader in shock, ‘What’s a renowned merc like you doing here?’

Swinging his lance and cutting into the neck of one of the bandits, Jeralt let out a sigh as he turned to face the leader. ‘You know, I’m the one who should be complaining. I’m caught up in this mess you started!’

With that, he charged the leader with his lance held high. The leader of the bandits leapt out of the way with a surprising amount of agility, and tried to counterattack with his axe, only to hit the warhorse’s metal armour and barely bruising the animal. Jeralt rounded on him and slammed the butt of his lance down onto his head, knocking him unconscious. Seeing the defeat of their leader, the other bandits scattered and tried to retreat to no avail – they were surrounded by Byleth and the youths.

All of a sudden, the leader snapped back to consciousness and leapt up. With a roar, he grabbed his axe and charged towards the girl. Without thinking, Byleth leapt in and shoved her out of the way as the axe came down. He felt the sharp sear of steel slicing into his shoulder, cutting its way through his flesh, gristle and bone. As the axe came down upon him, Byleth’s world suddenly slowed to a halt and he felt reality warp around him. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was standing in an empty void. A familiar girl’s voice called out to him from somewhere behind, tone ripe with exasperation.

‘Honestly! What are you accomplishing with that little stunt? It’s like you’re trying to get me killed, you fool!’

Looking around, Byleth sees the girl from his dream reclining on her throne. He wondered briefly on how and why he was here and so was she. He distinctly remembered the axe cutting into him. Shouldn’t he be busy dying now? Or was this some kind of strange afterlife?

‘Well, it’s fine,’ continued the girl, ‘After all, if you don’t know the value of your own life, you’re not going to protect it very well are you? Course not.’ She stood up and clapped her hands before continuing with a grin. ‘Now then, I guess it’s up to me to guide you from now on, right? You can call me Sothis. But I am also known as… the Beginning.’


	3. The Girl on the Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sothis saves Byleth's life and he questions reality.

‘Hmm… Sothis… Yes, that is it. My name is Sothis, but I am also called… The Beginning. But who once called me that?’

Byleth simply stared at the young girl on the throne in mild confusion. ‘The Beginning?’ he questioned, ‘What are you talking about?’

Sothis gave him a look, as if what she was talking about were plainly obvious. She continued, ‘I was unable to recall my name… until just now. And just like that, it came to me. How odd!’ She brought her hand to her chin thoughtfully. ‘I – wait. That look on your face… Did you think me a child? A mere child who forgot her own name?’

Byleth blinked and opened his mouth to reply, before swallowing his words. It had crossed his mind, but he didn’t think that it would be that obvious. He was still wondering whether he actually was still alive, if this was a hallucination from blood loss, or if he was already dead and in the afterlife. _If this is the afterlife,_ he had thought, _why am I stuck here with this amnesiac child?_

‘Phooey! That “child” just saved your life! And what does that make you?’

‘I’m less than a child?’ he answered tentatively. She responded with an expression of delight.

‘Correct!’ she exclaimed with a smile before her expression turned serious. ‘You threw yourself in front of that axe to save just one young girl. Yet all is well, as I have stalled the flow of time for now. You would have died had I not intervened.’ 

Byleth didn’t know what to think. He disregarded the fact that this could be real – after all, no one can stall the hands of time. Thus, he reasoned, there was no need to be polite and he can cut straight to the heart of the matter on what the actual hell was going on. 

‘You stopped time?’ he questioned with an air of disbelief. Judging by the scowl that quickly grew on Sothis’s face, he quickly realised that this was the wrong question to ask.

‘Hmph. I don’t hear your gratitude. Perhaps I should force you to leave?’ she said. Byleth quickly apologised and bowed. ‘There now,’ continued the girl, ‘Is gratitude so much to ask? I did deem you worth saving after all. Although it is only momentary, time has stopped. However did I manage that?’

‘What will happen when time resumes?’ asked Byleth with a sinking feeling that he already knew.

‘When time begins again, the axe will tear into your flesh and you will surely meet your end,’ stated Sothis matter-of-factly. ‘How rude of you to drag me into this! Now, what to do…’

At this point, Byleth decided that he was definitely bleeding out from the axe wound and his blood-starved mind was simply hallucinating. If this was the afterlife, they wouldn’t be having this conversation about his death.

‘I’ll just stay here and wait to die, then,’ deadpanned Byleth. As a mercenary all his life, he knew the risks of his job and did not fear death a single bit having been desensitised from a young age. All the while, he still felt uneasy about the unknown of death and what comes after. 

‘As though I could stand idly by and let that come to pass!’ retorted Sothis. She seemed rather upset about Byleth’s disregard for his own life, and perhaps with reason, considering how flippantly he discussed his own death. In hindsight, he realised that his words may not have been the wisest to appease a feisty child if she indeed spoke the truth about the ability to freeze time. She stayed still for a few moments, hand thoughtfully to her chin as she pondered her next course of action.

‘But of course! I must turn back the hands of time!’ she exclaimed in delight. She clapped her hands together and a golden magic summoning circle appeared in front of her. It glowed with holy power, concentric rings of geometric shapes and ancient texts swirling around it like a pair of fish chasing each other around a pond.

‘Yes, I do believe it can be done,’ Sothis continued. ‘You really are quite troublesome! I cannot wind time back too far, but all is well. You are aware of what’s to come which means you can protect yourself this time. Now go!’

Byleth felt the same rippling effect assault his senses as he returned to a familiar scene of battle. Looking around, he saw the leader of the bandits jump to his feet and charge towards the white-haired girl again. This time, Byleth met the axe with his sword instead of his shoulder, swiftly disarming the thief before kicking him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards. From a distance, he heard one of her companions shout. Turning around, he saw the other two youths run to join them.

From the other side of the battlefield, the clanking of armour heralded the arrival of a small military force. A boisterous and cheerful voice boomed across the battlefield, audible no matter where you stood on it. 

‘The Knights of Seiros are here!’ exclaimed the voice. Byleth noticed Jeralt visibly tense upon hearing the voice, as though he recognised it from his past. ‘We’ll cut you down for terrorising our students.’

‘Sir, the thieves – they’re fleeing,’ said a soldier.

‘Then chase after them! What are you waiting for?’ came the first voice. ‘Oh, but the students – they seem to be unharmed.’ The leader of the knights approached where Byleth was standing and came into view. He was a well-built man with brown hair and green eyes that twinkled with mirth. He sported a well-groomed moustache and had a warm and inviting air about him. He waved to the students as he came by, before he noticed Byleth and Jeralt standing with them. He let out a chuckle before giving a look to Jeralt; ‘And who do we have here?’


	4. After-Battle Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations after the battle.

‘Ugh,’ Jeralt groaned, ‘Why him?’

From his father’s rather exasperated reaction, Byleth could easily see that he and the knight had a history. _Probably friends from before I was born_ , he thought. Come to think of it, Byleth didn’t know what his father was doing in the years before he was born. All he ever told him was that his mother died of illness when he was younger and that he had been a mercenary for quite some time. Stopping his train of thought, he let his mind wander back to the conversation that had just started between the knight and Jeralt.

‘Captain Jeralt? It is you!’ exclaimed the knight. Byleth almost grimaced at how loud he was, especially considering they were only a few feet apart, while Jeralt remained unfazed. ‘Goodness, it’s been ages – don’t you recognise me? It’s me, Alois! Your old right-hand man! Well, that’s how I always thought of myself anyway. It must have been twenty years ago that you disappeared without a trace. I always knew you were alive!’ 

‘You haven’t changed a bit, Alois, just as loud as ever,’ replied Jeralt. ‘And drop that “captain” nonsense – I’m not your captain anymore. These days, I’m just a wandering merc. One who has work to do. Goodbye, old friend.’

‘Right… Goodbye, Captain. I – hold on a moment. This isn’t how this ends! I insist you return to the monastery with us!’

Byleth knew vague stories of a grand monastery in the mountains that served as an academy for aspiring knights. People in taverns all across Fódlan would often brag about how their niece or nephew was attending, or complaining about how the nobility gets free enrolment but the commonfolk have to work their arses off in order to pay the entrance fees. He also knew that the elite Knights of Seiros were also stationed there. Considering that this knight – Alois – was calling his father Captain, Byleth yet again wondered what exactly his father did before his birth. He was shaken out of his thoughts by Alois’s boisterous voice.

‘And what about you, kid? Are you the captain’s child?’

‘No,’ he answered drily, ‘I’m a bandit.’ The knight guffawed at his response before clapping him on the shoulder. 

‘Great sense of humour, this one!’ declared Alois, ‘Cut from the same cloth as the captain for sure! I’d love to see you at the monastery too. You will join us, won’t you?’

Byleth gave a polite nod as Jeralt sighed. 

‘Garreg Mach Monastery…’ he muttered, ‘I suppose it was an inevitablility…’

‘What’s troubling you, Captain? Aren’t about to run off again, are we?’ questioned Alois jokingly.

‘Heh. Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knights of Serios,’ responded Jeralt before turning to Byleth. ‘I’ll let our men know of our departure. They’ll be able to handle the job in the Kingdom without us. Why don’t you go talk to the brats over there?’ He jerked his thumb towards the three youths who were in a somewhat heated conversation.  
Byleth nodded and made his way over to the group, who abruptly cut off their discussion to greet him. The girl spoke first. 

‘I appreciate your help back there. You’re clearly an experienced mercenary and your skill is beyond question. And your father – that would be Jeralt the Blade Breaker? Former captain of the Knights of Seiros, oft-praised as the strongest knight to ever have lived. Have I missed anything?’ 

‘No, you have not,’ replied Byleth, ‘Although, I didn’t know he was a captain.’

‘How curious. I’d wager the reason for that is fascinating indeed,’ said the girl. She opened her mouth to continue speaking, but was cut off by the tanned man. 

‘Hey! You’re coming with us to the monastery right? Of course you are – I’d love to bend your ear as we travel. By the way, I should mention that we three are students at the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery. We were doing some training exercises when those bandits attacked. I reckon I got the worst of it!’

Evidently miffed about being interrupted, the girl drily commented, ‘And that would be because you ran off.’

‘Too true!’ he responded without skipping a beat and sending her a wink. ‘I was the first to make a strategic retreat. Everything would have worked out just fine if it weren’t for these two following me and ruining everything.’ He scoffed. ‘Utterly ridiculous, if I do say so myself.’

The blond haired man turned to face him. ‘Ah, so that is what you were thinking, Claude. And here I thought you were acting as a distraction for the sake of us all!’

‘His intentions were as clear as day. You will prove a lacking ruler if you cannot see the truth behind a person’s words,’ said the girl pointedly.

‘Hm. You will prove a lacking ruler if you look for deceit behind every word and fail to trust those whom you rely on,’ he retorted.

Once more, the girl was about to speak but was interrupted by Claude. ‘Oh, joy,’ he said sarcastically, ‘A royal debate between Their Highnesses. I wonder how being completely predictable affects one’s ability to wield power. Personally, as the embodiment of distrust, I’d say your little exchange smacks of naïveté.’

‘Me? Naïve? Tell me, are you actually incapable of keeping quiet, or is your lack of self-awareness a condition of some sort?’ she irritably snapped at him.

Raising his hand to pacify the two, the blond man turned towards Byleth. ‘In any case,’ he said, ‘please forgive our digression. If you can spare a moment, I must speak with you. The way you held your ground against the bandits’ leader was simply captivating! You never lost control of the situation and showed me that I have much to learn.’

Before he could continue, he was interrupted by the girl. ‘Your skill is precisely why I must ask you to consider lending your services to the Empire. I might as well tell you now. My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg, and I am no mere student. I am also the Adrestian Empire’s –’

‘Halt, Edelgard,’ interjected the blond man, ‘Please allow me to finish my own proposition. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is in dire need of exceptional individuals such as yourself. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd – please consider returning to the Kingdom with me.’

‘Whoah, there! You two sure are hasty,’ commented Claude, ‘Trying to recruit someone you just met. Tactless, really. I was personally planning to develop a deep and lasting friendship on our journey back to the monastery before begging for favours. The name’s Claude, by the way, Claude von Riegan of the Leicester Alliance. So, capable stranger, let’s get right to it. Where does your allegiance lie?’

Byleth didn’t know much about the circumstances of his birth, including where he was born. It seemed that one’s place of birth was of significance to the three youths he just met, yet they were so impressed by his skills that he could choose which country he paid allegiances to. As a mercenary, he had travelled all across the continent of Fódlan and was familiar with its three territories of Adrestia, Faerghus and Leicester. Looking back on his experiences in each of the three countries, he supposed he held a soft spot for the Empire. A few years back they had visited the capital of Enbarr, and he had been fascinated with the culture and the architecture. And so his response was clear;

‘As a mercenary, I hold no allegiance. Yet I am quite fond of the Adrestian Empire; the land of rich and ancient history.’

This pleased Edelgard, who broke into a small but smug smile. ‘A wise choice,’ she said, ‘Though the Empire has fallen from its former glory, the other regions are mere offshoots that pale in comparison.’

Dimitri and Claude seemed to take offence to that last statement of being mere offshoots, and were about to reply when they were interrupted by Alois’s booming voice from a distance. ‘Alright, that’s enough with the small talk. It’s time to head back to the monastery.’

‘Looks like we’ll have to pick this up another time,’ said Claude as they walked back to where the knights were. And so, Byleth was left with his thoughts all alone until a familiar voice popped into his head, startling him from his idle thinking.

 _Sothis?_ thought Byleth.

‘Precisely! It’s me!’ she exclaimed. ‘Now, share with me your thoughts on the three of them.’

 _Claude…_ reflected Byleth, _his easygoing smile is striking, yet, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He has an air of mystery about him and looks as if he’s always scheming something and staying two steps ahead._

‘I concur,’ said Sothis, ‘There’s something about him that makes me feel as if we shouldn’t drop our guard around him. What do you think of Dimitri? He seems sincere, but seems to have darkness lurking beneath.’

_I agree. His cheerful and chivalrous demeanour seem to be a masking trauma and pain. Lastly, Edelgard. She conducts herself well and seems like a refined young woman… but I feel like she’s always evaluating me. She strikes me as someone who would do whatever it takes to achieve a lofty dream._

‘Yes, I thought the same,’ Sothis responded before yawning again. ‘I am so sleepy once again… I think I’ll take another nap…’

Byleth remained for a moment, pondering why he has an amnesiac and narcoleptic child inside his head. He decided he’d rather not know and left to join his father and the knights as they set off for Garreg Mach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of the almost-verbatim retelling of the games. The next chapter will describe their journey to Garreg Mach in more detail than what the cutscene offered, and from then on it will be largely original, save from the cutscenes at the start and end of the month. There will be one chapter for each in-game week in a sort of slice-of-life retelling of the game's story. Stay tuned!


	5. The Journey to Garreg Mach Monastery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth makes some small talk as they walk to the monastery.

They had been walking in amicable silence for quite some time by now. The sun had risen a fair way since the group had begun their walk just after dawn – Byleth guessed it to be about eight or nine o’clock. He and the three students were walking a little ways behind Jeralt and the Knights of Seiros who were leading their caravan.

‘By the way,’ began Edelgard, breaking the silence. ‘I don’t think you’ve formally introduced yourself yet. Please, go ahead.’ 

‘My name is Byleth Eisner,’ replied Byleth. ‘I’m a mercenary.’ 

The three youths looked at him as if they expected him to continue, but he remained silent. He wasn’t particularly fond or good at small talk. But, he supposed, he could try to make an effort in order to entertain them while they walked the long road to Garreg Mach. He cleared his throat.

‘I see that you three are the only students on this training excursion,’ he mused, ‘Why is that so?’

Claude answered him with a wry smile. ‘It’s ’cause we three are their so-called “problem children” who can’t behave ourselves and so they sent us out for disciplinary training…’ Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the daggers that Dimitri and Edelgard were glaring him. ‘…or something like that.’

Byleth could plainly see that he was joking, but nevertheless couldn’t resist giving a disapproving look at the three if only to see Dimitri and Edelgard panic and try to save face.

‘Please rest assured, that is far from the truth,’ said Dimitri.

‘Indeed. Contrary to what Claude said, we are in fact house leaders at the Officer’s Academy,’ added Edelgard.

‘House leaders?’ asked Byleth.

‘Are you unaware of the houses of the Academy?’ responded Edelgard.

‘Unfortunately, yes. I have only heard of the monastery and the academy by name only,’ came his reply.

‘Then allow me to explain,’ she continued. ‘The Officer’s Academy has three houses, each one corresponding to each of the three countries. Where a student is born determines their house and classmates, although, they may choose to switch houses if they so desire. This year, I have the privilege of being the leader of the Black Eagle house of the Adrestian Empire. Dimitri leads the Blue Lions of Faerghus, and Claude leads the Golden Deer of Leicester.’

‘Coincidentally,’ said Claude, ‘We’re also the future leaders of our respective countries. Edelgard here is the next in line to the Imperial throne, Dimitri is the crown prince of Faerghus, and I’m the heir to the ruling family of the Alliance.’

Upon learning that he was in the presence of three nobles, Byleth moved as if to bow, but he was stopped by Dimitri. ‘Please, do not worry about formalities,’ he said, ‘While we may hold positions of responsibility and status, we are but mere students during our time at the Academy.’

‘I understand,’ replied Byleth as once more the group lapsed into silence. As they walked on, the sun crawled its lazy arc through the sky, little by little getting higher and higher whilst a cool breeze gently caressed their faces. The road ahead was a simple worn path, lined either side with forest, the gravel making its oddly satisfying crunching noise against their feet. Or at least to Byleth’s ears, the sound was pleasant anyway.

It was just after midday when the monastery came into view beyond the tree line. 

‘There it is,’ said Edelgard, ‘Garreg Mach Monastery.’ 

‘It truly is Fódlan in a nutshell, the good and the bad,’ mused Claude. 

After a quick stop in the small township adjacent to the monastery, the group entered through the grand gates and into the courtyard. From up above on a balcony, a woman in regal white robes and gold and navy ornaments watched them. Jeralt looked up and caught her gaze. 

‘Rhea’s here…’ he muttered under his breath. 

From the balcony, she shifted her focus to Byleth, who stared back at her.

‘I wonder,’ she said to no-one in particular, ‘Did the flow of time bring you here?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely I'm not alone in thinking the sound of crunching gravel is oddly satisfying?


	6. Author's note and change of formatting

Hi all,

Apologies for the recent lack of updates. I've been a little busy, and hadn't much time to write. However, I am a little unhappy at how slow the fic is going, and I now intend to have a collection of one shots that tell the overall story as well as little side stories and fillers. They might not be released in in-game chronological order, but they'll be sorted out in the collection. 

With that, I hope you continue to enjoy them when they get released.

Adieu!


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